Kai sy teknon: You, too, my child
by YouCantGetThereFromHere
Summary: ELISABETH Musical fic. WARNING: Mother/Son incest. Elisabeth/Rudolf. Empress Elisabeth wants to meet the subversive journalist who calls himself "Julius Felix" in person...


**Title:** Kai sy teknon (You, too, my child)  
**Rating: R**  
**Word count:** 3,369  
**Characters:** Rudolf, Elisabeth  
**WARNINGS: INCEST! Mother/Son.** Although I made it as tasteful as possible, and this isn't a "Squickfic", I do need to warn that there is some sexual action between Rudolf and Elisabeth here. It's not actually too explicit, but it is there, so consider yourself warned.  
**Notes:** I based Sisi _somewhat_ on Romy Schneider's 1972 portrayal of her in Visconti's Ludwig. Rudolf's just Rudolf, not based on anyone's portrayal in particular, though perhaps with a touch of Jesper Tydén (and a grain of salt. XD)

PLEASE don't flame me? But do tell me what you think, as I tried very hard to make this a quality fic. :)

**Disclaimer:** Rudolf belongs to himself, VBW and Michael Kunze. Elisabeth, as ever, belongs only to herself. ;) I am not making money from this.

**Summary:** Empress Elisabeth wants to meet the subversive journalist Julius Felix in person.

* * * * * * *

Anxiously Rudolf, Crown Prince of Austria, sat in a room dimly lit by a single oil lamp. It was well past midnight and the curtains were drawn, allowing him to relax a little into the uncomfortable armchair he had allowed himself to perch upon after pacing for the first ten minutes, extinguishing two more oil lamps as though they had merely burnt out. It was all he could do in order not to be recognized by his own mother this evening.

His mother was, of course, the Empress of Austria, and it was she who had summoned him, or rather Julius Felix, to come to this stylish but unmemorable house in an equally drab area of Vienna, far away from the Hofburg. No royal eyes or ears would ever spy upon them here, and it was just as well: it was impossible to imagine the scandal that would emerge were anyone to discover that Julius Felix, a journalist who regularly published radical new ideas of how to run the country in a widely-read newspaper, was in fact none other than the crown prince himself, and that the empress, unaware of his identity, was meeting him in secret.

"Oh, God," Rudolf moaned softly, biting his lip and pulling his hat further over his forehead, hoping it would cast a shadow across his eyes. Etiquette demanded he take it off when she arrived – and he wasn't sure whether he wished that to be sooner or never – but he hoped desperately that the secrecy of the visit would allow for unusual informality. This was his mother, after all, the free spirit of her age, despite many attempts to contain her, and she was meeting whom she believed to be a revolutionary. Could she grant him anonymity? He had grown a moustache since he had last seen her, its only purpose tonight was to deceive her. Was it even possible for a mother not to recognize her own son?

A third wave of nauseating panic washed over him and Rudolf wondered why he had agreed to come. When Herr Szeps, the owner of the newspaper had handed him the letter with sweat on his brow he had at once decided that Herr Felix could not meet Empress Elisabeth, come what may. The following sleepless night he had spent convincing himself that she would meet him, not recognize him but instead endorse his views and reinforce them with the emperor, using whatever means and influence she had. His thoughts had turned and twisted this way and that, creating scenarios in which she had him arrested upon sight, only to discover in shock that it was her son she had exposed to humiliation and scandal, and others in which she had known all along and only wished to express her admiration and great love for Rudolf.

In the end, he was sure that to deny the empress anything was more than his – or Julius Felix's – life was worth, and had thus agreed to meet her, on her terms, only asking subtlety and anonymity. So far, the first had been granted, and the second was sending shivers up his spine as he heard footsteps approaching outside the door.

Rudolf heard the familiar announcement of "Her Majesty, the Empress." before he looked up and saw his mother, not looking at him but thanking her maid, and asking her to leave them alone. The door shut, and to his horror he found that he could not bring his eyes to move upwards to face her. He could hear her breathing, saw the hem of her black dress on the floor, he could feel her presence close but unreachable, as she had always been, and he was almost certainly offending her by not standing and bowing to her.

"Herr Julius Felix," she said, a statement, not an accusation, before she moved to sit on the sofa opposite him, unasked, ettiquette thrown overboard completely. She had taken command of the situation immediately and Julis Felix had been given a reprieve.

"Your Majesty," Rudolf replied, cleared his dry throat and looked up.

There she was, dark and beautiful like a fairy queen in a play, her hair immaculately pinned to hold a small hat on top, her tall corseted frame straight as she sat and looked down at her only son. But, to his relief, as deeply as Rudolf tried to identify the emotions on her ivory face, he could not see the faintest shimmer of reconition. The iron clamp that had wrapped itself around his throat loosened and he breathed deeply. He was safe; for now.

"You're very quiet for a revolutionary, aren't you?" Elisabeth said, her eyes sparkling. Although the tone she used when speaking to an ordinary, unfamiliar person was somewhat the hardened sound Rudolf imagined one would expect on a goddess of Ancient Rome, she had not lost the sing-song twang of Upper Bavaria. He thought it lent a comforting gentleness to the challenge in her words.

"I'm sorry, your Majesty," he replied, hastily adding the title as he would be expected to were he anyone but himself. "Your letter was not clear on how I'd be able to help you."

He saw a fleeting smile under the veil covering Elisabeth's face as she made herself more comfortable. "First leave the title, I want to be able to talk to you."

"Yes, your Majesty." Rudolf answered immediately, then flushed in embarassment as she laughed openly at his awkwardness.

"Nevermind," she said, then quickly calmed herself. "As you may well have guessed, my visit here is in secret. I do not wish to be discovered, neither do you. I take it we understand each other?"

"Yes, your –" Rudolf checked himself. He did not wish for Julius Felix to annoy the empress by acting as a blundering idiot who was unable to hold a conversation. He suddenly wished he had spent more time around the theatre, in order to pick up some techniques on how to pretend to be someone different. "I mean, yes. If I may ask, why did you take the risk of meeting me here? You had already conceived to write to me, through Szeps."

During official gatherings, Rudolf had often watched his mother look at people, yet past them. It seemed that once she was familiar with what they had to say, she lost interest in them; unless of course that subject was fascinating to her, which seemed to him to be the case: her eyes were firmly fixed upon him, almost to the degree of making him feel like his soul was laid bare completely before her.

"Some things cannot be made clear in writing, Herr Felix," she explained. "Some things have to be experienced in person. Don't you think? The writing of letters and articles, it is the same. Letters ask something of the addressee, such as a reply or a meeting. In the same way, newspaper articles are open letters to the people, asking them to act. Do you not agree?"

"Of course," Rudolf replied, "But it is also the duty of the newspaper to print articles that will ask the people to do the _right _things."

"But who's to say what is right, my dear Felix?" she asked. She seemed comfortable now; relaxed, toying with her fan in that playful way he had also seen on her before, but usually toward the end of social affairs with her Hungarian acquaintances. "You?"

"I am not the editor of the paper, Majesty," he said, lowering his head and thinking carefully of what words to use next. He could not seem too radical, nor too complacent. "I do have my views that I believe to be true, else I would not write them. I truly believe that we can become a better, more advanced country, if only –"

"But you do not control the country, do you." At once Elisabeth seemed hardened again, the cool exterior was up and Rudolf felt a physical chill making the tiny hairs on his arms stand on end.

"I do not," he admitted, feeling the regret clawing at him. If only he were in control, if only there was something, _anything_ he could do to move Austria in the direction he wished it to go.

"I understand you," she replied, and now her far-off look was there, but it was not one of disinterest, instead it was the same look he could feel on his own face: the look that expressed desperation at having a grand idea and no way to execute it. He was glad they were not facing each other in that moment: Elisabeth followed the play of shadows in the corner where the wall met the ceiling, and Rudolf watched as her leather-gloved fingers twisted around her folded fan.

"I, too, had ideas once, but one by one I had to give them up as... improbable, implausible, insane." She chuckled to herself. "That is why I am so glad there is somebody out there, somebody the people will hear. Somebody anonymous and therefore unrestricted by the law, or what calls itself law. Julius Felix is an idea, not a person."

Rudolf could not believe what he was hearing. Although he had so often imagined her saying such words to him he had never believed his mother, the Empress of Austria, groomed to preserve archaic values, would ever do so outside of his own imagination. "You support my views, then?" he asked, unable to contain the enthusiasm in his voice.

"Of course!!" Elisabeth quickly directed her gaze back at him, and for a second he believed she might jump out of her seat, so zealous did she appear. "It is not before time that someone stirs the pot of our politics before it is allowed to grow too stagnant. It reeks to high heavens already, it disgusts me."

"Me, too," Rudolf whispered, and although he felt himself look longingly towards her, he could not stop himself. He had known, or at least hoped, that he and his mother were kindred spirits kept apart only by the lifestyle that dictated them, but never had he had any proof, and justification for this feeling.

Although she appeared to want to continue, Elisabeth paused to look into his eyes, and Rudolf was glad that the oil lamp between them seemed to be burning out. He swallowed. "What is it, ma- Majesty?"

The tense moment between the two came and lingered, initiated and, it seemed to Rudolf, encouraged by her. She leaned forward and his heart skipped a beat as her hand came toward his face, cupping his chin gently between her fingers.

"Strange," she murmured, distant though alert. "You remind me of me when I was your age."

This sudden turn of the conversation was not something Rudolf had expected and he did not know what to do or say next. The soft, warm leather glove around his mother's fingers felt nice, too nice to pull away. He shut his eyes, wanting to escape the situation, or for it to be something else... He had so often craved the affection of his mother, and he seemed unsure whether his heart was merely beating so fast out of joy, or if it was about to shatter into a thousand pieces with the knowledge that it was not Crown Prince Rudolf who had earned her caress.

His eyes were still shut when he felt her thumb on his mouth, heard the rustle of her dress as she sat on the chair next to his. He could not will himself to open them, though his rational mind was screaming at him to think of the consequences if he didn't, if he let her continue.

The thumb traced the edge of his lower lip as Elisabeth continued to speak quietly, her low murmur allowing Rudolf to relax.

"You truly are a breath of fresh air, Felix. You're what this country needs. You stand for everything which to believe in," She paused again, for an odd moment in which she took a slow breath, before she finished her sentence, "I am forbidden."

Rudolf opened his eyes and found them meeting his mother's, just inches from his face. He shuddered, looking at her this close was like staring into a dark lake and wondering what lay beneath it; her beauty was terrifying. And it was wrong, so wrong for him to look at her like that, yet she was looking at him just the same, and he had thought about it for longer than he cared to remember.

"Your Majesty," he sighed, and then: "Elisabeth," as he leaned into the kiss she was silently offering. Their meeting was endlessly soft, gentle, as though something might break were only one movement done too rashly.

He felt her hand on his back, now somehow ungloved and warm through his plain civilian's shirt and jacket. He shivered, not from cold but from excitement, and, pushing away thoughts of sin and damnation, wrapped his arms tentatively around her slight frame. He could feel her corset through her riding habit, and felt a bony shoulder against his collarbone as she moved closer to deepen their kiss. He had never really taken in how very thin she was.

But her lips, oh, her lips were sheer heaven, plump and strawberry-red, and as the tip of her tongue touched his he was sure he knew what death felt like.

The hand on his back moved slowly downwards, stroking in gentle circles, while the other mimicked the movement on his thigh, moving inwards. Rudolf whimpered softly. Even as he shifted his hips up to close the gap between his crotch and her hand, he knew he could not let her do this, it was wrong – so very, very wrong.

He broke the kiss breathlessly. "Your Majesty – Elisabeth – I can't –"

"Of course you can't," she interrupted, then her beautiful mouth curved upward in an impish smile. "But isn't that the joy of it?"

He had to tell her then, or at least create some story to get himself out of the situation. Perhaps he could excuse himself if he forced himself to feel the sickness he really should have felt at sharing this intimacy with _her_, but instead he found himself unable to form the coherent string of words necessary to make an excuse. The fabric of his trousers was straining, creating extra friction between his cock and her hand, and the knowledge of being close to her, closer to her than he had ever been, robbed him of the power of thought.

At the back of his mind he had known for several years that needed her so much more than any other woman he could ever meet. Every 'lady of the night' he took was Elisabeth, the more they looked like her the better, though none of them ever knew the nature of the fantasies they stood in for. They assumed he thought of a lost lover, with regard to his age perhaps only a much missed childhood sweetheart. How could anyone, even a whore, guess at something as deep and depraved as what Rudolf really craved?

"What are you thinking about, Julius?" she asked, leaning into him and rubbing his member through his trousers. "That I am the empress? Or that I am married?"

Rudolf gulped and shook his head, bending forward to softly lean his face against her shoulder. He could not keep looking her in the face while she was doing this, though he could not bring himself to make her stop. And she didn't.

Giving a low chuckle that sounded more like a cat's purr to his ears, she continued, kissing his earlobe, his neck, his jaw. "No, you're not so concerned with etiquette, are you. So little that you would not greet me properly, nor would you remove your hat."

Rudolf tensed and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the reality of what he thought was about to happen. She had to be angry with him. "Forgive me, Majesty, I –"

"I could have you arrested, you know," she continued, but calmly, almost lovingly, while she petted him, then unbuttoned his trousers with surprising speed. Suddenly, the warmth of her slender fingers was around his cock, the sensation of it causing him to cry out in shock and pleasure. It was as though the danger of it all was what made it worthwhile.

"Elisabeth... oh, please!" he cried as her hand moved up and down on his cock, making it swell under her skillful manipulation. He slowly wrapped his arms around her, awaiting rejection at any moment, but when it did not come he allowed himself to hold on to her while gently rocking into her movement.

"Look at me, Julius," she commanded and when he did, too close to her to really see her, he found himself kissed again, deeply and hungrily, like she was searching for something in him that she would not find. He wasn't sure what that was, and the fire in his body did not allow him to dwell on it. All he could feel was her tongue sliding against his, her hand firmly pumping his cock toward the buildup he almost wished would never come.

For a moment, he rested one hand on her shoulder, then slid it forward to her breast. She sighed into the kiss, and it did not sound like a sigh of pleasure, rather like that of a woman resigned to men obsessed with her worldly charms. Rudolf was about to stop, but she did not protest, and so, through the many layers of her clothing, he felt the softness he had never been allowed as a child, now as a man pretending to be someone else.

"Can you feel that?" she whispered in his ear. Rudolf nodded helplessly, unable to conceive how he could possibly _not _feel it. His body was trembling, physically as well as mentally overloaded with sensation. He hardly listened to her as she continued, stifling his moans as he neared completion.

"This is freedom, Julius," she went on, her voice intoxicating. "It's forbidden, beautiful; like you, like me. And I know we are so alike."

"Aahh!" Rudolf sobbed and began to weep as he came into her hand, his own fingers softly clutching her neverending mass of hair, tears staining her dress as he shuddered and trembled against her. The force of it made the world spin around him, all blood having rushed to his loins. He could not see for a second, and for the following second he thought he could not see when in fact the blackness was only that of his mother's dress.

Elisabeth. Mother. "Majesty..."

He sat back and caught his breath, then clumsily reached down to button up his trousers. He was somewhat aware of Elisabeth elegantly wiping her hands with a tissue, as carefree as though she were merely drying off spilt honey, before she stood and walked to the door.

"Keep writing, Herr Felix," she said, her face vaguely smiling but otherwise as indifferent as ever. "Be careful, but do not let the fear of prosecution stifle you. We need voices like yours, and I will continue to listen ardently."

Regaining his posture somewhat, Rudolf only nodded feebly. He could not get up nor speak, his throat felt like it had been sewn shut, his knees felt as though they would give as soon as he tried.

"Goodnight, then, Julius," Elisabeth said. He saw a last faint, unfathomable sparkle in her eye and then the door was shut behind her, the footsteps on the corridor outside fading into the distance.

She was gone, out of his life once more, and as Rudolf gathered his coat and slipped out of the house via the back door as silently as he had come some hours previously, he found himself smiling with a feeling of wholeness he had not known for a long time. In fact he was not sure he had ever felt it at all, or what exactly it was. He only knew it would keep him going for months, if not years to come.


End file.
